Preview

Britta sucked hard on her joint. Greendale couldn’t even do an active shooter drill right. The whole thing had become yet another paintball fiasco, with the ‘shooters’ pretending they were possessed by aliens and everyone else forming a resistance… it was all a bit high-concept for her. She’d resolved to wait the whole thing out in a janitor’s closet, smoking jays and not getting any paint at all on her clothes.

The door swung open and memories so integral to Britta that they were practically racial swarmed her mind. “I’m not smoking weed, dad!” she protested to Annie as the girl charged into the closet, paintgun leveled.

Not that Britta recognized her at first, and it wasn’t all the THC. Annie was wearing some kind of gimp suit, skintight leather enclosing all of her body except for her head. And that teenage body could take the merciless tightness of her gimp suit. Britta felt herself going a little cross-eyed, staring at all that supple flesh, the full breasts, the long legs—nothing at all bloated or swollen, least of all that absolutely adorable face, which somehow became even cuter when it furrowed with disappointment.

“Britta! What are you doing? I could’ve been an active shooter! You think some crazed active shooter doesn’t know what marihuana smells like? It probably draws them like catnip! How can you not take this seriously?”

Britta coughed and waved some of the smoke away from her, though she was quickly irritated at herself for letting Annie psy-op her like that. “Grow up, Annie. Abed turned this all into some dumb Stargate cosplay and Jeff backed him up because he thought it was funny. Look at you, you’re dressed like Catwoman. How is that supposed to teach people about what to do if the school gets shot up?”

“I am committing to my character! That’s what it takes to make Greendale safe—commitment!”

Britta giggled. “Are you wearing underwear over your catsuit? That’s crazy!”

“It’s… nobody said I couldn’t! As long as it’s mostly black leather, I’m fine to play a Zyntharian. It’s not like you commented on my earrings!”

“I think I got you those, actually.” Britta sidled closer for a better look. “For Galentine’s Day, because I was working at the mall and got a discount?”

“Aw, Britta, you remembered… Look, I can maybe pretend I didn’t see you, but you’ve got to start taking this more seriously! No more devil weed! If you need counseling, or someone to drive you to rehab…”

Britta moved fast, suddenly grabbing the panties Annie wore and tearing them down her thighs. Annie shrieked and so did Britta as a massive erection spilled out into the open.

“Oh my God!”

“What is that!?”

“Why would you pants me?”

“What is that!”

“That is something Troy and Abed do with each other, okay, that is not something we do, we’re girls!”

“Where did you even find the money for an operation—”

Annie’s face darkened. “It’s not mine! Well, it’s mine, but it’s not attached! Okay, it’s attached, but it’s… it’s part of the suit, alright, and I couldn’t figure out how to get rid of it, so I thought I’d just wear some underwear on the outside to cover it up.”

“You’ve been running around packing heat this whole time?” Britta’s eyebrows popped. “Damn, maybe I should’ve participated.”

“It’s not funny, Britta!” Annie tried to haul her panties up while keeping the gun on Britta. “This is the only black clothing item I could get on short notice—the owner of Dildopolis practically gave it to me for free…”

“Yeah, I can see why they thought you needed a sex toy.”

“Don’t be mean!” Annie hissed at her, giving up on the panties and entirely holding the gun on Britta. “I really want to be solidarity… solid… solidar… ious… with you, but you are not making it easy!”

“Relax, Annie—” Britta tried to hide a grin. “Maybe it’s just something Zyntharians have…”

Annie rolled her eyes. “You didn’t even read the campaign notes, do you? Only the priest caste has penises. You know what, fine, I’m just going to shoot you and get it over with—you can go home and hang out with your weed dealer. Where do you want it, huh? That blouse looks pretty cheap… you could use a new pair of jeans too…”

“Hey, come on now Annie, we’re friends…” Britta inched closer to Annie, reaching out to put a dainty finger on the gunbarrel and lower it. She knew Annie couldn’t resist some good Michael Jackson shtick. “What if I promise to start taking the Zyntharians seriously, huh, then what?”